


Linked

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2k17 [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Black Eye, Bruises, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love, M/M, Making Out, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 17:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10284842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: The Riddler has a gift for The Penguin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like shit right now but I banged this out in five hours for nygmobblepot week.
> 
> Wouldn't it be funny if I died because I went to a funeral? -slaps knee- -cries-

The Riddler swaggers through the door, cane twirling, tipping his hat to the guards and making his way into the Iceberg Lounge without so much as a second glance. Knowledge is his trade, after all, and there did not yet exist a better location in Gotham to put one’s finger on the heartbeat of its criminal underbelly.

Ed is not here on business, not technically, anyways. Today, it’s personal. He sits at the bar, cane hooked over his arm, noting the new tender. He’s handsome, hair slicked back and suited up in an immaculate tux, as are all the men who work here. It’s almost as if the attire of the staff was designed with the intention of making Ed hot under the collar (despite the wintery theme).

In a way, he isn’t wrong.

He orders a martini from the young man behind the bar and scowls when it’s delivered to him. Glancing over his shoulder at Oswald’s usual booth, he waits until the Penguin meets his gaze. It doesn’t take long.

Ed waggles his brows and shoots a meaningful look at the bartender. He can perfectly recall the exasperated sigh Oswald is making, even though he can’t hear it from this distance. Oswald excuses himself from the table, shaking hands with the woman he was speaking with. She gets up and walks away.

Good. Oswald has a minute, then.

“He’s new, isn’t he,” Ed says. It’s more of a statement than a question. Oswald rolls his eyes, gesturing for the bartender to come over.

“Mr. Nygma is very particular about his martinis,” Oswald says.

“The optimal gin dilution occurs at around 30 to 35 percent,” Ed interjects. 

The poor kid looks like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“May, I, Ozzie?” he asks, already leaning his cane against the bar and heading around.

“Of course,” Oswald says, making a sarcastic sweeping gesture.

“The trick is,” Ed begins, coming through the gate, “the _smell_. I prefer stirring to shaking for this reason, as the timing is generally more accurate.” He beings mixing the gin, vermouth, and ice. Four to one on the gin to vermouth, Oswald knows. “If you pay attention, you’ll be able to smell the point where the aroma of the alcohol overwhelms the smell of the alcohol itself.” Ed gestures for the bartender to take over stirring.

The kid leans in tentatively as he stirs, very much conscious of the eyes of two of Gotham’s most notorious rogues on him. He does as Nygma says, waiting for the sweet juniper and citrus smells to come through, then pours the mixture into another glass. He slides it over to the Riddler, no garnish, as he hadn’t indicated he wanted any.

Ed smells the difference before he even tastes it, smiling to himself.

“Well done,” he pronounces, setting his drink down and returning to the correct side of the bar. The boy visibly sinks with relief. 

“Do you have a minute?” Ed asks, leaning his long body back against the counter and crossing one leg over the other.

“I can always make time for an old friend,” Penguin responds, deceptively jovial. He claps Ed hard on the shoulder. A little _too_ hard. Ed wonders what he’s done this time to warrant the hit and the implication of being _old_. Oswald turns and leads the way to his office.

Ed grins over his shoulder and winks at the fresh meat, snatching his drink up off the counter, and then his cane. “I’ll see you around,” he drawls, loudly enough for Oswald to hear. Payback is in the little things, these days.

He follows Oswald to his office, tipping the last of his drink back as he walks through the door. Ed leans his cane against the desk and lights a cigarette immediately after putting his finished drink down on it (on top of a coaster, of course, he’s not an _animal_ ). He makes eye contact with Oswald as he lights it, watching the Penguin sink into the large and comfortable office chair as he does.

He takes a second drag as he comes around the desk. The chair has just enough room for Ed to slot his legs on either side of Oswald, a coincidence, he’s sure. Ed tips his hat back, sliding into Oswald’s lap and exhaling into his waiting mouth.

“Happy birthday,” he whispers as the transfer ends, smoke curling between them. Oswald lets it puff out through his nose and Ed giggles, slapping a hand on his chest. “Am I in trouble?”

“Flirting with the help still infuriates me, if you were unclear on that.” Ed rolls his eyes.

“Honestly, if you don’t know by now that I’m yours I’ll never be able to have any fun teasing them,” Ed says, tossing his hands up and then taking another drag.

“You think it’s fun,” Oswald says sharply, fingers pressing into Ed’s hips at _last_.

“No,” Ed says innocently, mouth a perfectly shocked ‘o’. He leans forward to whisper in Oswald’s ear, “I think it’s _hilarious_.”

Oswald scoffs, kissing Ed quickly to convey his openness to continuing the displays of affection, despite Ed’s earlier transgression.

“I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight,” Oswald says.

“I couldn’t wait to give you your gift,” Ed says excitedly, wiggling in Oswald’s lap. Oswald takes the cigarette from him.

“Are you going to make me guess again this year?” Oswald sighs, taking a hard drag in preparation for the agony to follow.

“Well…” Ed drawls slowly, prolonging his torture, “I suppose it is your birthday, after all. You don’t have to guess if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Oswald says definitively. Ed’s a little disappointed, but it’s no skin off his back. Oswald is the birthday boy, after all.

“Alright, let me fetch it,” he says, standing. He makes his way over to the newest addition to the room’s decor, a white couch. Reaching under the cushions, he pulls out a large umbrella. Oswald scowls from his desk. 

“How did you get that in here?” Oswald demands, furious that Ed’s snuck past his security yet again after he had very nicely asked him to secure the building.

“Guess,” Ed says, grinning rakishly.

“Tell me,” Oswald demands, in no mood for games on his _birthday_ , of all days. Ed pouts, sitting on the desk in front of him. He plucks the cigarette from Oswald’s fingers and stubs it out in the ash tray.

“I may or may not have have noticed you placing the order, tracked it to the appropriate warehouse and snuck your gift inside last night.” Oswald narrows his eyes.

“Ed,” he says cooly.

“Yes?” Ed asks, feeling a prickle of anxiety.

“Did you purposefully come on to me two days ago in this very same office with the express goal of soiling the old couch as I made love to you, knowing that I would immediately order another to replace it should a repeat performance be in the near future, in order to smuggle that gift in and surprise me?”

Ed blushes and put his hands up. “You got me.”

Oswald pauses, contemplating him, his expression neutral.

All at once he grins, standing and pushing Ed’s legs apart to kiss him. He bends Ed back with the force of it, almost laying him on the desk. Ed’s legs kick up comically behind him before he settles into the new angle, holding onto Oswald’s shoulders for purchase as the Penguin ravishes his mouth.

“God, I love you,” Oswald gasps, kissing him again. They remain occupied by the activity for some time, until Oswald sneaks a hand down to thumb over Ed’s nipple through the fabric of his shirt. Ed gasps, pushing them apart before this goes too far and they ruin yet another couch, or the desk.

“Oswald, wait, your present.”

“I’d rather have you, Eddie. I’d rather have _you_ ,over this desk, right now.”

Ed squirms at Oswald’s tone, his defenses breaking down. “I have plans for later,” he insists, pulling Oswald’s hands from where they’re slipping back inside his jacket.

“So do I, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also have you now,” Oswald growls, winding a hand into Ed’s hair and tugging his head back, teeth sinking into his earlobe. Ed shudders, eyes fluttering as Oswald’s fingers twist into his hair. Oswald is pulling every trick he has, but Ed knows for a fact that they’ll be too tired for athletic sex later if they do this now.

“It does if you want me to put out tonight for whatever you have in mind,” Ed threatens, his last card on the table. If Oswald doesn’t care about whatever he wants to do to Ed later, he can continue his delightful ministrations, by all means.

Oswald seems to consider this, “You don’t think…”

“Oswald, I’m no spring chicken, and neither are you. You can wait for whatever wild ideas you have tonight or fuck me now, but I won’t be up for both. My ass was still sore yesterday, and I barely managed to walk out of here last time.”

Oswald smirks, remembering their last romp fondly. “I suppose you’re right,” he concedes.

“Excellent, now let me demonstrate this bad boy for you.”

“It’s an umbrella,” Oswald deadpans, looking over it skeptically.

“An umbrella with bullet proof fabric in the canopy, a depleted promethium shaft, ribs, and stretchers, a dagger in the handle- should I go on or are you still unimpressed?”

“Go on,” Oswald says, casting a more appreciative eye over the admittedly handsome umbrella. It was well crafted, and he contemplates what other hidden wonders Ed has managed to cleverly incorporate.

“It also doubles as a rifle, but that’s not even the coolest part,” Ed gushes, giddy. He opens the umbrella, then reaches into his jacket pocket.

From it, he procures a monocle. “Put this on and look through the canopy.”

 _Look through the canopy?_ Oswald wonders, carefully putting on the monocle. To his astonishment, he can see his office door through fabric of the umbrella.

“How-” Ed jumps in with an explanation before he can even finish asking.

“Advanced fiber optics integrated into the fabric, you can also see through it from the other side, of course, with the right frequency, which I programmed into your monocle. It took ages to develops but I’ve tested it and it hasn’t done any harm to the effectiveness of the fabric and also-”

“Ed,” Oswald interrupts, putting the monocle on his desk. He can tell when Ed’s speech is going to devolve into full-on science babble. “Thank you.” Ed beams, his smile brightening.

“The beauty of it is that you don’t have to leave the cover of the umbrella to shoot, I was very adamant about including that or this would have been your Christmas present-”

“How long have you been working on this?” Oswald exclaims. It’s _August_.

Ed seems to realize his error. “Erm, not too long, really. I mean it’s been kind of a side project. The materials are quite tricky to work with so the longevity of it was mostly due to the need for precision and accuracy, and-”

“I love it,” Oswald says, “I don’t know how I’m going to top this, honestly.”

“Only you would be worried about one-upping me so soon,” Ed sighs, brushing a kiss over his lips. "Just a thank you would have sufficed, I don’t expect anything grandiose in return. It’s really a product of my perfectionism and obsession, if anything. This weapon was certainly a challenge to design and create.”

Oswald thinks about the ring in their bedroom, the one Ed has miraculously not discovered. He’s sure he’ll think of some over-the-top way of proposing that’ll knock his nerdy argyle socks off, but Oswald couldn’t be more grateful for what they share right now.

“I know, I just like spoiling you.” Ed purrs obnoxiously, rubbing their noses together. Oswald pushes a hand through Ed’s hair, fingers catching on his mask.

“Why do you still have the mask on?” He asks abruptly, pulling the knot in back loose.

“Oswald, wait-” He gasps. The skin around Ed’s left eye is slowly purpling, but thankfully the eye itself is undamaged.

“Who was it?” Oswald hisses, gripping Ed’s chin as he tilts his head this way and that.

“Unless you’re planning on a fist fight with the bat, I wouldn’t get too worked up, Ozzie,” Ed says softly, tilting the bad side of his face away as he tries to kiss Oswald.

“I _knew_ you were wearing makeup,” Oswald snarls, pulling his pocket square loose and dipping the end in his glass of water. Ed catches his wrist as Oswald raises the damp cloth to his face. Oswald takes a deep breath when he finally processes the look Ed is giving him.

“Let me see,” he says calmly, and Ed lets go. He swipes carefully over Ed’s face, removing the concealer and powder from his skin. He reveals another bruise on his cheek, his jaw, hesitating over his neck.

“Did he-?” Ed tilts his head back; that’s a yes, then. Oswald finds a long line of bruising over his throat, probably from the bat’s gauntlet. He must have had Ed in a chokehold. Oswald sighs. There went several of his ideas for tonight. Leave it to Batman to interfere with his sex life as well, that flying rat bastard.

“You’re angry,” Ed says.

“Did you think you could hide if from me?” Ed shifts against the desk.

“No,” he admits. “But I was hoping to hide it a little longer.”

“I could have hurt you,” Oswald whispers, stroking his fingers lightly over the bruises on Ed’s neck. Ed shivers.

“I was going to show you after dinner. I made reservations, and I wasn’t going to show up looking battered.”

“Was that a pun?” Oswald groans.

“Perhaps,” Ed chirps, and the mood physically gets lighter. Ed will be fine, it’s only bruising.

“You’re going to have to redo your makeup, then. I apologize.” Ed laughs. 

“This is quite opportune, actually. ‘Riddler Crosses Penguin, Leaves Lounge Licked.’”

“If you insist,” Oswald smiles, licking a stripe up Ed’s neck.

“Ozzie!” he protests, giggling at the treatment. It is a fact known only by one that the infamous Riddler is ticklish.

“You taste good,” Oswald tells him, “I could just eat you.”

“I wish you would,” Ed moans, pulling Oswald off his neck to kiss him, his eyes fluttering closed. Oswald groans into his mouth, dragging Ed to the edge of the desk by his ass. Ed wraps his arms around Oswald’s shoulders, then his legs around his waist.

“I can make that wish come true,” Oswald insinuates, biting Ed’s bottom lip and then licking into his mouth again. Ed’s eyes snap open and he pushes Oswald away, one finger raised accusatorily. 

“You!” he says, huffing. “We’re not screwing in this office again, I miss our _bed_.”

Oswald huffs, “Don’t blame me for trying, you’re irresistible. I can’t help myself when you keep visiting me here.” Flattery usually gets him pretty far.

“If you were home more often,” Ed begins, starting in on an old rant.

“No, no. Not today. I’m pulling the birthday card.” Ed’s mouth snaps shut into a pout.

“Fine, I’m going home to put my face back on.” He stands. Oswald sighs.

“I love you,” he tries. Ed melts almost instantly.

“I love you, too.” Ed smiles, sinking into Oswald’s arms and kissing him softly. Ed puts both hands on Oswald’s chest, and Oswald’s hands come up to cradle the small of his back.

“I’ll see you later,” Ed whispers as they part, suddenly very shy. Oswald cups the good side of his face and kisses him again, thankful Ed doesn’t have a split lip this time. He drops his hand, picking up the mask.

“May I?” Ed nods, turning to let Oswald tie it behind his head. Oswald makes the knot snug but not tight, patting Ed’s butt lightly when he’s done. 

Ed turns around with a smile on his face.

“So you liked your present?” he snarks, jutting a hip, cocky as all get out with the mask back on.

“It’s brilliant, just like it’s maker,” he says, tapping a finger to Ed’s nose. A blush seeps out from under the mask.

Ed falters for a moment, and then says, “Of course I am. There’s one more thing, though.”

Ed grabs his cane, and the umbrella. He walks around the other side of the desk and lays their respective symbols between them. He twists the beak-like projection on the base of the umbrella and a purple light blinks once and then goes out. Ed twists a ring on his cane as well, and a green light blinks on briefly. 

“They’re linked now,” he says, “like a kind of homing beacon. So we can always find each other.”

Oswald blinks back tears and rounds the desk, hugging Ed tightly. What this means to him is unfathomable, inexplicable. 

“Thank you,” he gasps, clutching at the back of Ed’s suit jacket.

“You don’t think it’s… creepy?” Ed asks, voice small.

“Are you kidding me? With the amount of times we get abducted I’ve considered putting a tag behind your ear. This is much better.” Ed suddenly doubles over with laughter, wiping at his eyes.

“That’s- that’s good to hear,” he gasps. “I’m glad I did this first, before you took me to the vet.”

“I still might, don’t tempt me.” Ed shakes his head in disbelief and pecks him on the lips, picking his cane up.

“I’ll show you how to use it later, but I should probably get going, we’ve been in here a while.” Oswald nods, watching the extra swing to his hips that Ed puts in as he swaggers to the door, cane twirling.

He pushes the door open.

“Until next time, Penguin,” he calls, tilting his hat.

“A _pleasure_ , as always, Riddler,” Oswald smirks.

**Author's Note:**

> Lift my spirits because my body is dead and comment below.


End file.
